Petals on the Wind
by SugarLandBabyGirl
Summary: "An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but will never break." - Chinese Proverb
1. -1- A Gathering of Butterflies

**Disclaimer: Characters and other recognizable things in this story belong to their respective copyright holders. The only things that I own are the original characters and plot of this story. I am making no money from writing this fan work. No copyright infringement is intended**.

**A/N: **Please take note that this is a simple trial-run for a _Magi the Labyrinth of Magic_ story idea that has been on the backburner for quite some time. As such it is incomplete and messy and probably more than a little confusing at first and second read. Also there is some critical, need-to-know information that has been purposely left out of this first piece. I may or may not fix these problems later on when I have more time to devote to this story.

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**A Gathering of Butterflies**

The young women gathered were from all social standings. Some held themselves like great, arrogant Queens while others stood with a quiet yet nervous grace. The women were of all body types, skin tones, eye colors, hair lengths, types and shades and all were of varying heights. Their ages seemed to range between those as mature as thirty years and as youthful as fifteen.

They were dressed in their finest bridal gowns and family jewels, if they were so fortunate, just for this extraordinary occasion. One woman out of this grouping of a hundred, if not more, would be chosen as the new Prince's concubine. All were considered to be above average in beauty, the Prince couldn't be disgraced with an ugly concubine after all.

However, even if you weren't lucky enough to be picked as the Prince's concubine, you could still be chosen by some of the other nobles as a concubine.

The hall was filled with brilliant hued gowns, not one of them the same design or shade. She felt like a moth trapped in a gilded cage full of the most beautiful of butterflies.

Surrounded by such overwhelming extravagance and beauty, she was certain that she wouldn't be chosen. Why pass over any of the many much more beautiful and surely more qualified women, for her? There was absolutely nothing remarkable about her. She was sure that she wouldn't be picked, by anyone.

Her modestly cut dress was not the most eye-catching, despite having put her family in a great deal of debt that would no doubt take them years to work off. Coming from a poor family, the only jewelry she wore were the old but pure gold studs in her lobes and the four gold bangles around her wrists that had been handed down from her mother's mother as a modest inheritance.

Her hair was done up in a simple yet elegant low twist off her lightly perfumed neck. Her makeup was soft and mostly natural hued save for the dark lining of kohl around her eyes. Her mother had said that it made her eyes stand out more, after she had finished preparing to send her only child away to the Royal Palace with the possibility of never seeing or hearing from her again.

Her mother had wept heavily, fearing both options for her daughter. Her father had remained eerily silent, only acknowledging her with a nod and a saddened gaze when she finally departed.

She didn't want to be picked, despite the honor and prestige it would bestow upon her and her family. All she wanted was to return to her modest life as a simple commoner. She wanted to see her quaint house, her parents and her sweet but loveably useless dog again.

But, she was in fate's hands now, and fate never does run upon the smoothest or the most predictable course.

Most of the other women spared her a brief glance of appraisal and transparent distain, before they completely dismissed her as competition. In their eyes she was lower than the dirt they walked on. What chance did she, a simple girl obviously from humble lineage, have against them – daughters of prestige and privilege?

They weren't wrong. Parisa was sure that she had no chance of being picked by any of the noblemen, let alone the Prince, even as a concubine.

There were very few familiar faces amongst the crowd. They were girls from her village that were of similar age to her own. The ones she did recognize were girls she had seen before but had never actually spoken to. The one girl that stood out the most was the only girl from her village that was dressed like royalty and the only one of whom she had personally spoken to, Nasrin.

Though not friends and more of acquaintances, they were on friendly enough terms. It was hard not to like her honestly. Despite her wealth and the naivety of the real world that comes with being spoiled by an overly doting and widowed father of noble lineage, she was a rarity – pure and full of light. She was always seen smiling so cheerfully, like she had not a care in the world and perhaps she truly did have no troubles in life.

If so, then she was truly lucky, maybe even blessed by fate itself, and Parisa wouldn't begrudge her for that. No one is at fault for simply being born into a certain caste while others are not.


	2. -2- An Unknown Fate

**An Unknown Fate **

The wait unsettled everyone within the slowly emptying room. Nerves were on razor's edge, and rightly so. Tensions had been high ever since the first elegant candidate draped in fine auspiciously tinted silks and an arrogantly tilted chin had been summoned and passed through a pair of grand ornate doors never to return. In fact, not one of the women who entered through those doors had been seen since.

Quiet uneasy murmurs fluttered through the remaining girls on swift wings after about the fifteenth girl had been escorted through those imposing doors and shared the same unknown fate as her predecessors. Parisa remembered her very clearly. She was a pretty young thing that couldn't possibly have been over fifteen years, with delicate features, a petite frame and big round eyes that easily revealed her anxiety.

Everyone, including Parisa, was curious as to the fates of those girls. Some of the others wondered if they had all been chosen. Though unlikely, it was not unheard of for an Imperial Prince to have many concubines, hundreds even. Had they all been rejected, sent home to become the shame of their family? Many rumors passed through painted lips, some more outrageous than others. But what no one dared to voice, though it was clearly dwelling within their thoughts, was that the reason no one returned was because they were no longer among the living.

Just what had happened to all of the girls, and what was going to happen to _them_ once they passed through those doors?

Parisa was one of the few that remained silent throughout the entire process. The daunting uncertainty of so many unanswered questions was getting to her as well, but she tried her very best to stand firm and stow the negative emotions. Despite her efforts, it was all in vain and peaceful thoughts evaded her like pipe smoke on an evening breeze.

One after the other girls continued to vanish, until Parisa was one of only a handful left. Nasrin also was part of this small group. It only took a brief glance around for Parisa to realize the reason why they were last to be sent before the Imperial Prince and the nobles. The girls left, though considered citizens, were not originally of the Kou Empire, Parisa and Nasrin included.

Those left for last were clearly thought of as less worthy than those whose Far Eastern bloodlines ran back through generations upon generations, since before the founding of the Kou Empire even.

Parisa wondered if any of the others noticed this discrimination, or if their nerves were just too taut for them to take notice of anything that went on around them. It was probably the latter, if the slight nervous rustling of fabric was anything to go by.

The soft sound of the double doors opening and the steady shuffle of footsteps caused Parisa to suck in a slow, deep breath and her eyes to close momentarily. By the time her eyes fluttered open and her mind registered the name the assistant called, Nasrin had already begun to move away from the group and towards the doors. As the lengthy train of her brightly hued silken gown and long strawberry red hair disappeared, Parisa felt a cold heavy weight settle in her stomach.

Would this be the last Parisa would see of Nasrin in this life?

The very thought nearly made her ill. It took a few moments, but when she realized her hands were trembling she clasped them together so they were hidden beneath the fabric of her long gown sleeves. But no matter how tightly she gripped her hands, knuckles surely as white as freshly fallen snow, her heart continued to pound painfully in her chest, stealing her breath.

Seconds felt like hours. Minutes an eternity before the door opened again and the next candidate's name was called. Her heart nearly burst inside her chest, and for the first time in her life, Parisa felt as if she might collapse in a dead faint.

The name called... was hers.

She would be the next to walk through those doors and into an unknown fate. It was finally her turn to face the judgment of the Imperial Prince and the nobles.


End file.
